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Weekly Contest #368
The question ran through my ears and out my mouth like a bowl of soup. I stuttered, stammered, slurred. Not an intelligible word came out of me and the man just gave me this look that told me I was the crazy one. Me? Crazy? This situation was the thing that was crazy! I had no earthly idea of what I should say. This man--this strange man wearing a crisp-cut chip jacket with denim boots and leather jeans--was the crazy one. In an alley, framed by loose wires and the sloppy slab wall of that thrown-up building which he was leaning on. I had be...
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